


Cinnamon's Thunderstorm

by myexplodingcat



Series: Flying Taser Shenanigans [3]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pokemon GO
Genre: (If a weird life anyway), Fluff, Gen, He does not care if he's seen a specific breed a thousand times, He just loves them all, He's like a dog lover whose job is looking at dogs, Is fluff with plot a thing? If so this might be it, Oneshot, Slice of Life, Spark loves every pokemon egg ever, except for paperwork, fluff with plot, frizz is just done with everything, genfic, intelligent pokemon, pokemon as family, protective zapdos, spark and his deep reserves of patience, spark and his pokemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 18:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12174468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myexplodingcat/pseuds/myexplodingcat
Summary: Spark has always treated his Pokemon as members of his family, and when one is in trouble, he's always quick to rush to their aid. This time, he might have ended up with more than he bargained for, and his trust in his family is the only thing keeping him safe.Or: Spark is simultaneously the best and worst boss ever (super considerate but really needs to learn to sign the payrolls on time), a certain orange furball joins the pack and gets into trouble, Zapdos turns into a very smug yet very protective glow stick, and Spark learns what it feels like when your flying mount gets struck by lightning... and in response redirects it...while you're sharing its senses.





	Cinnamon's Thunderstorm

**Author's Note:**

> This fic rambles on a lot more than the other two but I like it anyway ^_^; If you like lots of characterization and reading about the kind of nonsense Spark and his 'mon get up to every day while working together, this is what you want.

“So, yeah, they aren't _really_ eggs,” Spark was saying as he walked down the street, talking on his communicator to an Instinct trainer. “I know, the 'dex entry is weird about it, but—oh, you've got to be somewhere? Wait, are you collecting a bet? Ha! Okay, talk to you later. They better pay up!”

Spark squinted back up at the large office building he'd just left: Professor Willow's city headquarters, a nexus for communication between the three teams. Spark enjoyed helping people and organizing events, but the sheer amount of paperwork that came through the building instantly made his eyes gloss over. Right now he was feeling pretty spent because today a lot of it had been his to deal with—and that was mostly because he'd let it pile up to the point where his assistants were giving him concerned reminders that they'd had to find some extra milk crates to store the documents that wouldn't fit in the filing cabinet.

Spark felt guilty for leaving it so long, but he had other things to do! Things which didn't require him to sign his name ten times a minute. It was hard to prioritize checking that each department's financial audits had been completed over flying out to remote research teams to receive interesting video reports from areas that didn't even have an Internet connection, especially as the latter allowed him to spend time with a certain giant bird, who took great pride in being the best flyer for the trip.

After a minute's thought, Spark decided that probably no one else needed him here right now and he could safely turn his communicator off and head home to relax. Anyone who needed to contact him could use email, or, if it was urgent, send a messenger Pidgey to find him.

A Ninetales was sitting in the park across the street, listening to its trainer play a Pokeflute while aggressively ignoring a Growlithe who was rolling happily in the muddy grass behind it. Spark noticed the egg starting to crack in the trainer's incubator and headed over.

“Hey, Tori! Looks like you've got a hatch.” Finally, someone who wasn't likely to hand him a manila folder.

She looked up. “Oh! Hi!” Then the egg caught her attention too. She picked up the incubator, popped it open with the button on the top ring, and waited.

Crack... jiggle... crack... shift, wiggle... crack! Out tumbled...

“A Poliwag, sweet!”

Tori's expression of mute resignation melted as she turned back to Spark, whose face was lit up like a sunrise. “You want me to check it out?” he asked enthusiastically.

Tori shrugged. “Sure.”

Spark pulled out his modified Pokedex and scanned the Poliwag. “He's a really strong one! Perfect Defense, too. 'Course, you should expect that kind of thing from one you hatch yourself.”

Tori offered a weak smile.

“I know you've got a stronger one already, though,” Spark added. “But if you don't need him, there's plenty of room on the Prof's ranch and our reserves, and we're always after research subjects. Like, right now Blanche is working on better lures and potions and stuff, so it helps if she can get the biggest sample size possible.”

“Sure thing—I'll send him along. Oh, and on that note, I've got one for you personally.”

“Yeah? What's up?”

“The last one I hatched was that Growlithe,” Tori said. “I was going to make her part of my team, but Ninetales really hates her. I've already had to stop him trying to curse Growlithe for playing with his tails, so it's probably better if I let the pup go. But I haven't sent her to the professor because I remembered you said your pack was short-handed, so I figured I'd try to find you directly first.”

Spark nodded. He used a fairly large team of Growlithe and Arcanine to patrol the Instinct reserves, watching for things like poachers or injured Pokemon. “Thanks, that's really thoughtful—I'm glad you remembered.”

Tori recalled Growlithe mid-roll. “Sorry about the mud,” she said, tossing the ball over. “She likes to get into trouble.”

Spark grinned. “She'll have access to more mud than she could ever imagine. I'll take good care of her, I promise.”

“I know you will. Have a nice day, Spark.”

“You too, see ya!”

* * *

Spark hummed as he and Zapdos landed outside the research center where he and many of his Pokemon lived and worked. It was on the edge of a huge stretch of Instinct reserve, and those of his pack who didn't have jobs in the research center lived out in the semi-wilderness there.

Spark tossed Zapdos an apartment key so it could go nap in its nest. Zapdos had spent the past half hour fighting strong wind currents with Spark on its back, and both of them were pretty tired. Spark had an errand to run before he could rest, though. And on the way, he could run a second errand and spare the Growlithe manager a long trip—which was especially important right now because the manager had another task that required frequent attention.

He pulled Growlithe's ball out of his backpack and gave it a toss. One very muddy Pokemon emerged and barked happily at him. “Hmm... I'll name you... uh, Cinnamon!” Cinnamon, looking pleased, sat down next to Spark's leg and leaned on him companionably. Spark made a mental note to wipe down his riding leathers before dinner. “Come on, I've got a job for you.”

Spark walked along a path for a while, with Cinnamon running around but staying relatively nearby, before he stopped at a shed. He grabbed the hose and let Cinnamon jump around in the spray until she was clear of the mud. Next, he let out Frizz, his Jolteon.

“Mind helping us pull the cart today, Frizz?” It was something Frizz had done plenty of times. Then he paused—considered that these were a Jolteon and a dripping wet Growlithe—and realized that this was not going to work.

He was also carrying Lighter the Vulpix today, plus a messenger Pidgey and a Seadra. The last Pokeball on his belt was empty, as Zap had just wandered back into the research center. He couldn't really use Lighter for this either—pairing him with Cinnamon would make a team of two Pokemon who'd never pulled a cart before, and pairing him with Frizz would make a team whose combined builds would mean they'd be thoroughly exhausted by the time their task was finished; Spark didn't like doing that to his Pokemon. But Lighter could still solve the problem. Spark let him out.

“Lighter, use Fire Spin on Cinnamon here. Don't hurt her, just dry her off. Hold still, Cinnamon.” Not something he'd try with just any Vulpix, but Lighter was particularly accurate.

Holding still was not a skill Cinnamon had learned, and Spark was fresh out of that particular TM. He pulled out a potion and tried to get the excitable little thing to stop jumping around. She didn't even seem to notice any injury, but Spark reached deep into his reserves of patience and got her to settle down. She was just a pup, after all, hatched within the last week.

There. Now he could use both Cinnamon's strength and Frizz's experience, without worrying that Cinnamon would get fried the first time she startled Frizz.

Ten minutes later, Frizz was getting hooked up to the harness. He held very still, as if trying to make an example. This did not work very well. Spark hooked Cinnamon up next, which took longer. Once they were harnessed to the cart, Spark started to haul bags of dry Arcanine food out into the cart. _Eight_ _bags should_ _be enough for the rest of the week_ _,_ he thought, and would be a reasonable rolling load on the bumpy path for two Pokemon. He didn't want to overload Frizz—Cinnamon was, after all, still a young pup.

However, this was an underestimation of Cinnamon, who heard Spark's whistle and enthusiastically took off, almost plowing the cart over Frizz. Spark ran to keep up with the speed Cinnamon was setting.

Frizz was really the one driving the cart, Spark realized, because Cinnamon had no clue where she was going and wasn't taking direction from Spark, and Frizz actually knew the way. By the time they arrived at the Growlithe shelter, Spark was well out of breath and thoroughly exhausted. Today was getting to be a little much.

Cinnamon looked pleased with herself and gave another happy bark, completely ignoring Frizz's lowered posture. Spark was certain this was intended to be a reprimand, but since so much of Pokemon communication was body language, Cinnamon missed it completely by not paying attention.

Spark released her from the harness first, because she was rattling the cart and Frizz by wagging not only her tail but her entire body. Once free, she began jumping around in a circle. Spark was beginning to understand why Ninetales had not been a fan. Frizz cooperated as Spark released him, although he looked thoroughly disgruntled.

Spark knocked on the door of the shelter, where already he could hear the Pokemon inside barking and baying happily at his arrival (or perhaps that of the food). A bedraggled looking manager answered and jumped upon recognizing his visitor.

“Oh! Uh, Spark! I wasn't expecting you. You brought food?”

Spark shrugged. “It was on my way, I figured I'd save you the time.” Strictly, this was a lie; he could have flown here directly on Zapdos. But Spark didn't want to imply that he thought the manager couldn't handle his job. Making sure his employees knew he respected them was important. “How are the new pups doing?”

“The sick one has improved, but I'm still feeding him separately by hand and checking on him every two hours or so to make sure he doesn't get dehydrated. His mother still won't leave his side."

Spark sighed. "I'll check with the Chanseys to see if they have room for both. It's Angel, isn't it? The mother?" A protective and territorial Arcanine. Spark had seen her at work.

The manager nodded. "She's barely willing to accept my help; I don't know how she'd feel about leaving the shelter to entrust her pup to anyone else. Either way, the others from that clutch don't seem to have caught it, so they're doing well. You said this was on your way—what's the main reason you're here?”

“I've got a new Growlithe for the pack. Meet Cinnamon!” He picked her up. Cinnamon was heavier than he thought and he was already short of breath, so this elicited an “oof” and he promptly put her down. She bounced on her front paws, as if wanting to be picked up again. Spark wheezed and leaned on the doorframe. “I think... we need to pair her with an Arcanine at first. One of the older females. She's kind of a handful.”

“Got it,” said the manager. Spark handed over Cinnamon's Pokeball and strode out of the kitchen and into the corridor. He and Frizz slipped into the main shelter area, where about a dozen each of Growlithe and Arcanine were resting in the beds near the wall or just milling around in the fluorescent lighting, out of the hot sun. The roof came down low at the other end of the shelter, where there were low openings for the Pokemon to use as an entrance and exit, and which invited in a light breeze.

Spark was instantly mobbed. A Growlithe, fortunately smaller than Cinnamon, leapt happily into his arms, while another rolled over on his shoes. One Arcanine licked his temple, a second nuzzled into his hair, and a third lowered its chest to the ground while wagging its tail up high. Nearby, four more Growlithe channeled their happiness into a wrestling match with each other.

The manager came in and gently led the Arcanine that had licked Spark outside. With it gone, Spark noticed Frizz offer one of the Growlithe a companionable headbutt, to which it responded by rolling over, paws in the air. Frizz happily tackled it and the two rolled out of Spark's peripheral vision.

Spark laughed and pulled away from the pack, setting Growlithe down. “C'mon, Frizz. We've said our hello, let's get home.”

Frizz pulled the empty cart back to the supply shed on his own, and at a much more manageable pace. Noticing how tired Spark was, Frizz stopped and pointed his nose to offer his friend a ride in the cart, but Spark just gave him a scratch behind the ears (ignoring the static electricity) and said he was fine walking.

When they got back to Spark's apartment in the research center, he gave Frizz a quick brush to get the gravel dust out of his coat, then cleaned up his own clothes, before laying down to nap. Frizz burrowed under the blanket to curl up next to him. Zapdos woke up briefly and craned its neck to make sure Spark was all right before going back to sleep in its nest beside the bed.

He was woken several hours later by a persistent tapping on the window. Groggily he opened it and let the messenger Pidgey in, and it stuck out its foot to let Spark take the tiny slip of rolled-up paper from its cartridge.

“Mrmf...” Spark mumbled, blinking away sleep. “Oh, great.” It was from his Growlithe manager. Apparently the Arcanine matriarch had returned without her charge, in distress.

“Looks like Cinnamon's in trouble,” he told Frizz. He wasn't sure, but that looked like an eyeroll from the sleepy Jolteon.

It was at this point that Spark heard distant thunder. Out of habit, he glanced at Zapdos, but the bird was peacefully waking up on its own. Not a grumpy-bird storm, just weather. He glanced out the window—there were indeed dark clouds in the distance, and they looked big and heavy. In fact, they were over the city and moving in this direction.

Spark sighed. No chance of passing this task on to someone else, then; anyone who had enough time free to do an emergency Growlithe rescue was off in the city, and they couldn't just fly out with something like that overhead. But he needed to get Cinnamon to safety quickly, before the storm came through.

Spark started to wake up as he put his clothes back on. What kind of trouble could a Growlithe get into that an Arcanine couldn't get her out of? Maybe she'd gotten stuck somewhere small...? That might mean he should take a Pokemon small enough to get Cinnamon out of whatever trouble she was in, just in case Spark couldn't reach her either.

Frizz seemed to be thinking along the same lines, because he nudged Spark. He was carrying his own Pokeball, which he then dropped and recalled himself.

Spark had actually been planning to ask a new Ivysaur to come along, as their vines were useful for delicate rescue operations, but perhaps he'd had enough of new Pokemon for the day. Besides, you couldn't beat a volunteer, and Frizz was reliable and (importantly) didn't frighten at the sound of thunder. Spark stowed the ball on his belt. Speaking of thunder...

“Zap? Mind giving me a lift? A pack member's in trouble. We should probably hurry before that storm gets over here. The wind'll be bad as it is.”

Zapdos was on its feet immediately. Spark recalled it, for speed's sake, slipped on his sneakers, and ran down the hall and out the door.

The wind was bad already, and he hadn't even left the ground. Zapdos's ball shook, then on the second hard shake it released itself. Spark mounted and tried not to fall as Zapdos took off immediately.

“Head for the Growlithe shelter,” he yelled. “We need to know where she's gone.”

The trip was short. They landed, and Zapdos followed Spark in, which caused the manager to make a squeaking sort of noise that Spark pretended not to hear.

“I need to see Arcanine,” Spark said.

Zapdos continued to follow the two as the manager led them to the main shelter and the Arcanine who had been mentoring Cinnamon. She perked up on seeing them.

“I can get a map, and she can point and show you where it is,” said the manager. “The older ones are very good at that.”

“Nice, but don't bother. I'm not the one she needs to talk to.” Spark pointed to Arcanine and Zapdos, who already seemed to be communicating. Arcanine shifted her front paws, made a mumbling sort of growl, shook her mane, sat down, and then looked at Zapdos expectantly. After a few seconds, she glanced at the humans. This seemed to be the conclusion to whatever point she was making.

 _The pup is climbing around the narrow cliffs near Jumpluff Ridge. The area is too fragile for an Arcanine's weight, but we can land nearby._ Zapdos ruffled its feathers. _We should go._

“Right,” Spark said, then noticed that both Arcanine and the manager looked confused and remembered that not all the Instincts were used to his and Zapdos's communication. Spark didn't really know how it worked either, but he didn't worry about it. Zapdos was trustworthy, in an erratic sort of way, and—mischief aside—it would do anything to protect Spark and his other Pokemon. Ignoring the obvious befuddlement, Spark said, “We're heading to the cliffs in the Jumpluff Ridge area. If I'm not back in two hours, send reinforcements.”

Zapdos let out a squawk that sounded suspiciously like a laugh, the implication being that _it_ was about as good as reinforcements got.

Spark took Cinnamon's Pokeball back from the manager, and he and Zapdos ducked out through an Arcanine exit. That interaction had taken longer than Spark thought, or perhaps the storm was moving especially fast; it was almost overhead. Luckily, Jumpluff Ridge was in the opposite direction. That wouldn't buy much time, but it did mean that the cliffs weren't slick with mud yet.

Yet.

Zapdos struggled briefly against the wind as they took off. Slightly embarrassed at its own clumsiness, it gave several powerful wingbeats and steadied itself. Spark was concerned at first that this was a bad sign, that perhaps Zapdos was fatiguing faster than it was willing to show, but soon he relaxed as the bird found its stride. Spark lowered his body and clung along the great bird's neck, minimizing the wind resistance he added. He turned his focus to making sure he leaned with Zapdos's movements, making himself as little of a burden as possible. Spark found his own stride in this, as the patterns he followed became easier and easier to predict.

It was at times like this that Spark almost felt he was seeing through Zapdos's eyes, sharp and clear, the colors just barely different. Even as the first clouds started to creep around them, Spark felt he knew exactly where they were going, how fast, and how long it would take to get there. He could feel the different air currents, and what would happen if Zapdos merely angled a wingtip and banked just slightly, and how tight of a spiral that would make. He waited for this sense to tell him when the wind was about to die down momentarily before sparing a hand to flip his hood up. Almost glued to the back of the legendary bird as it angled away from an area of currents that would blow them off course, Spark felt oddly comfortable and at ease. Something told him Zapdos could feel his happiness too.

They flew like this for perhaps ten minutes before something started to feel off. The air was a little too clear, and it felt sort of fuzzy. The rain pelted down, soaking through his hood. A shiver ran down Spark's spine. Something felt... dangerous.

 _Cover your ears, hold_ very _still, and don't panic,_ Zapdos commanded. It had leveled out its flying temporarily and was keeping balance so that Spark could get by with riding hands-free. Spark covered his ears and held still, holding on as best he could with his elbows, but couldn't shake the feeling of alarm. His brain seemed to be scrambled by a visceral fear.

Then it happened.

It was deafening, even with his hands clamped over his ears. Without Zapdos's warning, he would almost certainly have blown an eardrum or two. Spark felt what happened rather than saw it, yet it still took him a few minutes to understand—and for the ringing to stop.

The lightning bolt had struck one wingtip, arced across Zapdos's chest and to the tip of its other wing. With a rustle of feathers, Zapdos discharged the electricity through its tail, hitting the trees below. Its ruff stood momentarily on end before it shook its head and sent tiny bolts scattering through the air. The remaining electrical energy flashed through its feathers, making them glow like the brightest neon.

Spark could not open his eyes. As far as he could tell, Zapdos had turned into living plasma and yet somehow managed not to hurt him. The tingling in his fingers was fading, but he still felt almost as if it were his own right hand that had been struck—not very painfully, but in a buzzing, pins-and-needles sort of way, as if he'd gone through the process of losing circulation in that hand, then the other, and then having it rush back in a matter of a few seconds.

 _Are you all right?_ Zapdos asked, concerned.

Spark nodded into its feathers and felt its relief.

By the time he felt fully coherent again, Spark still couldn't see through the clouds, but he knew they were almost there. Zapdos had dimmed considerably but it was still glowing brightly. Spark had heard people described as incandescent with rage, but Zapdos was incandescent with satisfaction. It seemed awfully pleased with itself for bringing Spark through the strike unharmed.

 _Going down,_ Zapdos warned Spark.

This was a real fight with the wind. In places Zapdos dived sharply, then leveled out onto a friendlier current; other times it circled once or twice before finding a way to descend safely, or let itself be blown away slightly before dropping further.

At this point Spark was starting to lose his bearings. The curves and detours were confusing. Eventually, though, he realized that Zapdos had stopped focusing on flying or going down, but was looking for Cinnamon. Its cries rang out around the cliffs.

 _I should probably be the one yelling,_ Spark thought. _I'm familiar to her. I don't think she'd come out for Zapdos._

“Cinnamon!” he began to call. Then, remembering she'd only had part of a day to get used to that name, “Growlithe!”

A few minutes later, possibly in part through what he was sharing of Zapdos's superior hearing, he detected a tiny, insistent bark.

Spark opened his mouth to ask Zapdos to land, but it wasn't necessary. The bird curved toward the cliff edge and landed in a large enough spot for Spark to dismount. The trails along the cliff were wide enough for a human or a Growlithe to walk, but a Zapdos couldn't land just anywhere, and an Arcanine wouldn't be able to get up them at all.

Spark took a minute to find his feet first. His balance was off, much more so than after flights that were merely long. Finally the landscape seemed to stop spinning. He touched Zapdos's beak in reassurance before starting to climb toward Cinnamon.

Spark hiked up toward the barking until it seemed to be at its loudest point. Then it took some searching before he located a fluffy orange tail poking out of a burrow. He tried to recall Cinnamon and missed—the tail was wagging back and forth too quickly for the ball to register, and the rest of Cinnamon's body was deep in the burrow.

“Frizz, help me out here,” he said in exasperation, releasing the Jolteon.

Frizz gave him a look that read something like “Are you stupid?” and bit down on the fluffy orange tail, dragging Cinnamon out and causing her to yelp. She was, of course, caked with mud.

“Frizz!” Spark scolded. He got down on his knees and grabbed hold of Cinnamon's ruff. “All right, she's not going anywhere. Let go, Frizz. Back in your ball.” Grudgingly, Frizz obeyed.

At this point, Spark noticed what else was in the burrow. A Furret was cowering in the depths of the burrow, and it was definitely sparing one of its back feet.

Spark looked at the Pokemon in his hand. Her nose was covered in scratches from Furret's claws. But she had correctly identified an injured Pokemon and done her best to bring it back. “Huh. You do learn quickly, don't you? But you'll have to figure out better ways of dealing with your charges. It doesn't work this way.” He recalled Cinnamon.

At this point, he lay down fully in the wet grass and spoke softly to Furret. “Hey, I'm sorry about that. You look pretty scared. Want to smell me?” He took off one of his gloves and held it out, then resisted as it was almost pulled out of his hand. “Nope, I know you like to hoard things, but you can't have that. Come on, you're feeling well enough to try to steal stuff, so get out here. Let's take you back to the Chanseys and get that leg fixed up.”

This did not work. The Furret bit Spark's hand. “Ow! Fair game, I guess. I'll have to find some other way of getting you out of here.”

Suddenly, Spark sat up and looked over his shoulder at a glowing and now very angry bird. He'd forgotten that their communication ran both ways. “Zap, calm down, it's just--”

Zapdos, hovering, plunged a beak into the burrow and pulled out the Furret. Neither its panicked shrieks nor its thrashing seemed to bother Zapdos, who held its scruff on the end of its beak and looked at it levelly.

Spark sighed. There wasn't much use in arguing at this point. He picked up Frizz and Cinnamon, put them back on his belt, and followed Zapdos back down to the wider piece of cliff.

“Look, can I wrap Furret in my jacket now? It's got a bad leg. It was just scared, I wasn't patient enough with it.”

The answer was no, but Zapdos did transfer Furret to its talons, and cradled the creature quite gently if firmly on the way back. Spark delivered Cinnamon back to the shelter with as little fanfare as you can have when your mount is a flying, glowing, grumpy, wet lightning rod carrying a terrified Furret, and then headed back to the research center.

When they landed again, Zapdos finally let Spark take Furret, who was now more than happy to be in anyone's arms as long as they didn't look like a radioactive pile of murderous feathers.

“Good job, buddy,” Spark said fondly, scratching Zapdos's head. “I... was not too sure about that lightning thing, but you knew what you were doing.” It trilled appreciatively.

“Ready for a rest?” he asked, holding out its Pokeball. It was. Zapdos tapped the ball and let itself be recalled.

Spark carried Furret, now much calmer, into the med lab. Its ears twitched as it tried to figure out where it was and why, but Cookie the Chansey showed up pretty quickly and Furret settled down.

Cookie was insistent that Spark's bite be treated first, however. She cleaned it out with peroxide and Spark learned what “don't be such a big baby” sounded like in Chansey-language. He then helped hold Furret as she set its back leg, applied a potion, and put it in a splint.

“Crate for a couple days, then?” he asked, as she applied a second potion to the beak scratches around its scruff. Bones took a little longer to heal than surface cuts; it was harder for the potion to get where it was needed. However, repeated application over a couple days while the injury was prevented from worsening seemed to do the trick. Cookie hummed her agreement and carried Furret over to a wall of wire crates, each outfitted with a cushy bed and bowls of food and water.

Spark liked watching the Chanseys at work. The whole idea of med labs as sanctuaries for injured wild Pokemon had come from Professor Willow's Blissey, and it spread quickly everywhere else as the Chanseys made it known that this was something they wanted to do. Candela had come up with the idea of training her Pidgeot flock to recognize and bring back anyone injured, and then that spread too. The leaders were usually the ones to provide supplies and a workplace for the med labs, but it was the Chanseys who did the majority of the actual work.

Spark particularly liked that this system acknowledged how intelligent they were, and that it meant nobody questioned it too much when he let his Pokemon have fairly independent jobs and responsibilities as well. Instinct wasn't the most abundant in human members, so there was plenty of work to go around. He chuckled, remembering something.

“A little bed rest never hurt anybody, right, Cookie?” Spark asked.

She shot him a look and went back to work.

Another Chansey directed a few chirps and hums at Cookie, who padded over to the window and peered outside. Spark looked out too—seemed like the storm was gone.

Cookie checked a list by the wall of cages and began opening one of the rows and helping the Pokemon down, while the other Chansey opened a door to the outside patio for them. The patio also had a wire mesh around it, to keep anyone from straying and any nearby predators from trying to get a cheap meal, but to be honest the Chanseys would wreak their revenge on any Pokemon that tried attacking their wards. They did not consider preying on the injured to be fair game.

Spark occasionally tried to explain this to other people. Willow understood, but most people thought the idea that a Pokemon might have a moral code sounded a little ridiculous. Spark, on the other hand, had seen Zapdos _interact_ with poachers on the reserve. He'd once met a Pidgey flock that included exactly one shiny Spearow, which had been rejected by its own kind for looking different but was now staunchly protected by its found brethren. He'd even watched two Gloom dividing a single Razz Berry into two democratic halves during a drought (before, of course, digging out a handful of berries from his own bag and then pointing them toward a shed where several Chanseys had set up and were passing out rations).

That reminded him—he still hadn't eaten dinner.

He tossed Frizz's Pokeball. “Let's get something to eat, yeah?” Frizz's chirping bark answered in agreement. “And then... I think we have a nap to finish.”

* * *

The next day, Spark ran into Candela in the city. “Candy! What's up? Nice clear day, isn't it? You won't believe what happened yesterday.”

“Oh, hi!” she answered, pausing her run. “Sorry, Spark, I can't talk—trying to hatch this one quickly for the Professor.” She jerked a thumb at the incubator strapped to her back. “He needs it in a hurry and I run the fastest.”

“Good luck, then,” Spark said, waving her away. He moved on, thinking. _She_ would _hatch eggs quickly, with all the running she does. And the faster you move, the faster they hatch, so_ _if you really like to run_ _..._

Oh...!

Spark grinned. This was a stupid idea. The best kind.

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” the Growlithe manager asked.

“Sure, I'm sure!” Spark said cheerfully, strapping the second incubator onto the other side of Cinnamon's harness, so the two were like a pair of saddle bags. “These incubators are designed to take a good amount of impact without cracking the eggs. Even if it doesn't work, she won't hurt them.”

Cinnamon barked happily as Spark finished. He picked up the Frisbee. “Now… go fetch!” He hurled the disc and she took off. Frizz flopped on the ground in exasperation.

“That should run some energy off if nothing else,” Spark said.

“She certainly does… run around a lot,” the manager commented. “I suppose if any Pokemon were to… well...”

“Let me know if it actually works, okay?” Spark said with a huge grin. He recalled Frizz and mounted Zapdos again.

_“I'm going flying.”_

**Author's Note:**

> This started off as a comment response about the kind of lengths Spark would go to in order to help one of his Pokemon who needed him, and then I realized I really wanted to write Zapdos getting struck by lightning with Spark riding it. Spark needs a pretty odd set of circumstances to be convinced to fly in a storm... Zap on its own would be fine, especially if it made the storm in the first place and was controlling it, but with Spark along for the ride that's something else.
> 
> I also like the idea that Spark and Zap have an unspoken bond. I hc Blanche as constantly trying to study and understand how the bond thing works with Articuno, and Candela as at least having given it some serious thought, but Spark is just like... eh, we've known each other forever, it gets me, I trust it--and he doesn't worry about it. "If we jam emotionally and we're focusing on the same thing our consciousness starts to blend together more and more, no big deal!"
> 
> The lowkey version of this is Spark's ability to understand Zap's words. There's always a tendency for their emotions and thought processes to be similar in reaction to whatever situation they're in, they've been with each other so long. This still doesn't explain why it only works with Zapdos, though, and none of the others. Even with Frizz, whom he hatched and raised personally, Spark only understands the exaggerated body language Frizz uses to communicate with him. All this is driving my Blanche _nuts._
> 
> I also wanted to push my Spark to see exactly how much patience he had. Little enough that he might try to get someone else to rescue Cinnamon if he trusted that person to do it quickly and safely, but also enough that he'd absolutely go himself if that seemed unlikely or dangerous. And also enough patience that he doesn't lose his temper with a hatchling, but not enough to stop Frizz giving said hatchling the what-for. >:]
> 
> It's hard to blame him for being so tired though. Spark has kind of a block about paperwork--just the idea of having to sit around struggling through it instead of being outside and doing stuff gives him a kind of anxiety and dread, but eventually stuff has to cross his desk and he has to at least sign off on it. There's a reason he likes video reports. He miiiight have some issues with ADHD. Definitely he's a mild workaholic with energy to burn, either way.


End file.
